In the Heat of Passion
by TheHipster
Summary: During Herbology, Draco discovers Hermione isn't the bookworm he's made her out to be; instead he finds something much more interesting and pleasing to the eye. One-shot. Complete. M to be safe.
1. In the Heat of Passion

The hot summer sun turned the Herbology greenhouse into an oven

The hot summer sun turned the Herbology greenhouse into an oven. Draco Malfoy could definitely feel the heat; the sleeves of his impeccably pressed shirt were rolled up and damp with perspiration. His emerald and silver tie was loosened, and the gray woolen vest was shoved into his schoolbag. Silvery blonde locks cascaded into his line of sight.

It was definitely too hot to even pretend to be concentrating on Herbology, the most mind-numbing subject of all. Crabbe and Goyle had stopped paying attention twenty minutes ago; now Draco let his mind wander aimlessly, almost feverishly in the heat. He shifted in his seat restlessly. His shirt was sticking to the back of his chair uncomfortably.

Bored, he lazily shifted his gaze to Harry, Hermione and Ron. It was quite the maneuver to keep his disgust in check. Weasley had his head propped up, and his great mouth was hanging open like a mailbox door. _Bloody idiot_, Draco thought maliciously. Potter was doodling in his textbook, but Granger – she was actually listening to the fat old teacher, taking notes as the scholar droned on about plant matter.

If it wasn't for the temporary state of heat-induced delirium that Draco had been in, he might not have even paid heed to Granger. Somehow, in the bright sunlight streaming through the steamy glass of the greenhouse, she looked different from her usual geeky-bookworm-self. Her rats nest of hair seemed soothed by the extra moisture in the building, almost shrinking it to half the size of it's normal afro-like enormousness. The sunshine outlined her shape. Draco could almost swear Granger's eyes were the colour of dark honey, with a tint of gold about them – also a miniscule freckle-like spot in her left eye. Her nose and cheekbones were lightly dusted with mousy brown coloured freckles. They were almost cute, but for the beauty Granger seemed to possess.

Draco realized what he was thinking, and shook his head, as if to rid his mind of the thoughts. Failure was imminent, as Granger shifted in her seat. She crossed her legs, and the hem of her skirt slowly creeped up her smooth-shaven thigh. It was though it happened in slow motion – Draco thought he could even hear the friction of the fabric on her skin. His tongue flicked out of his mouth, to moisten his chapping lips. He could now see down to the slenderness of her ankles, all the way up her silky, soft-looking calves, over her knees, and part way up her thigh. He felt his temperature increase when he thought of what was at the end of those long, long legs. He did not lose control, however. He kept himself in check without taking his eyes off of her.

Keeping her legs in his peripheral vision, Draco hauled his gaze up to her arms. She too, had rolled up her sleeves up to her elbows, also with her sweater vest tucked away. This led his eyes to her breasts. They were of decent size, definitely not the largest he had seen, but they were adequately plump and well rounded. Her shirt was almost too tight; the folds suggested that her breasts were tugging at the fabric. Again, his body temperature rose.

He then pictured her, lying in the Slytherin dormitory: asleep, with his green bedspread exposing her breast in the sunlight. Her smooth curls cascaded gently over one sleeping eye and leaving her smile uncovered. Her leg was exposed, from toe to waist, the velveteen emerald blanket covering everything else. It was a serene sight with Draco looking almost lovingly on.

Damn it, why did he get so worked up over this girl he'd never looked twice at before? No matter, he would enjoy his observation time while it lasted.

Leaving the breasts, his cold gray eyes followed her slight arms down towards her scribbling fingers. Her fingers were thin, and had smudges of ink on the tips and under the fingernails – unattractive, Draco decided. Yet her wrists and forearms were so smooth and flawless looking, the same creamy colour of her legs, and nearly hairless. Draco smirked at the thought of some Hufflepuff girl's he'd seen shaving their arms, and took pleasure in seeing Hermione's arms so perfect looking. Her hands were small, and looked as though a pen or quill belonged in them – or something else, Draco inwardly smirked.

He heard her sigh with – what was that? – A note of boredom? Draco's hungry eyes darted up to her illuminated face. Her moist lips were parted, with her pearly whites partly visible. _Oh_, those lips. Just how Draco liked them – plump, but not protruding, and natural with no lipstick or gloss. Surprisingly, he also was partial to the few faint freckles upon them – a trait he'd never been fond of.

Suddenly she shifted, making Draco jolt, thus resulting in his chair unseating him. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley both laughed unnecessarily loud as the bell sounded for next class. Draco was grateful for the excuse of the heat, because if not for it, his face would have been just as flushed and red. He hastily stood and righted himself, and grabbed his bag. He chanced one more look at Granger, and to his surprise, she was looking directly at him from across the room. Her eyes were curious and confused.

What was that look in her eyes? Draco would never know. Nonetheless, he would think of her with more appreciation tonight.


	2. Realization

Author: Thank you SO much for the reviews! You guys motivated me to write this next piece. (I keep telling myself not to stay up so late writing these, but I'm addicted.)

**In the Heat of Passion**

Realization

I knew something happened to Draco Malfoy that day in Herbology. Don't ask me how I know – it's as much a mystery to me as it is to you.

On the other hand, I think something happened to me too. It's inexplicable; I just don't know how to say it, other than I reached a realization.

The next double Herbology class the Gryffindors had with the Slytherins, I vowed to pay more attention to detail. I always had a knack for noticing the small things, but I never applied the talent to life outside of books and studying.

I picked a seat on the far side of the semicircle of desks; Harry and Ron followed suit. I knew Draco would pick a seat closer to the opposite side of the plant emporium. When he sat down with his cronies, I knew my knowledge had paid off.

For one of the few times during my school career, I turned my ears off, tuning out Mrs. Sprout. It was hot today; much like the fateful day last week. Everything I had done that week between double Herbology classes had led up to these two and a half hours.

I settled myself in for a long period. I laid my books gently on the mildew-covered floor, slung my bookbag on the back of my chair, and propped my head up on my hand.

The sunlight shining through the glass of the greenhouse was almost that – green. Must've been algae on the glass panels or something. It cast harsh shadows all across the classroom. It cast warm – but not harsh – shadows across Draco's face.

It was as if I had telescopic vision; I could see almost every hair in his eyebrows, every long eyelash. His straw-coloured hair hung into his eyes in small clumps, as though it was damp from perspiration. He did not have a distinct part in his hair; instead he let it go wherever it may. It cascaded into his face like water down a cliff.

His eyes were the most incredible I'd ever seen. His eyelashes were long, like a girl's, and the sunlight caught the tips of them, turning them white. They were the shape of almonds, with a lone tear duct. His irises were a steel gray, with a slight hint of a green, minty colour, and beautiful tones within those colours.

I never knew men could have such flawless skin; it looked nicer than my own skin. It was smooth, with no scarring from zits and acne like many guys had. I could almost touch it…

Full, rose coloured lips accented his skin tone wonderfully. They were well cared for, I could tell. There were no deep lines, which were evidence of chapping lips. They were masculine, but yet, to me, they were beautiful.

His cheekbones and nose were my favourite part about his face. His nose was strong and well defined. The bridge was high, and the tip was somewhat pointed. It wasn't narrow, though, as most pointed noses are. It was perfect in itself; no one could wish for a more desirable nose. As for his cheekbones, they were high and well defined. They gave his face distinctness; his cheeks seemed to be carved from stone, they were so clear. His chin was also well defined. It jutted out from beneath his lower lip like a balcony. It had ever the slightest hint of a cleft in the center.

When he asked to leave for the lavatory, I couldn't bear it. That was the longest five minutes of my life. At his return, I kept my eyes low, so no one would suspect my admiration of his appearance.

I once again settled into my bored-yet-paying-attention pose. This time I paid attention to his arms. I loved his arms. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, so his forearms were bare. They showed signs of toning; they had more muscle towards the elbow, and I could see his tendons moving as he drummed his fingers on the desk.

Another thing I loved about him were his hands. His fingers were long – probably used to play the piano. I loved the impressions on his knuckles where they would bend. His fingernail beds were also long, yet his fingernails were not. There was dirt underneath them; typical of boys.

His legs were propped up lazily; his right ankle rested on his left knee, creating sharp folds in his gray dress pants. I loved those pants on him. They made him look dignified and professional looking. They also made him look tall - not that he needed the extra height. He was already a good few inches over six feet.

My eyes wandered back up to his face. The sun had shifted over the last hour, and was now shining on his distinct features.

Suddenly his lazy gaze shifted to me. I almost gasped aloud. Instead, I managed to push a smile onto my face. The truth was, I was mortified he'd caught me looking at him in such a romantic way.

He did not smile back. My own smile faded from my face as the bell rang for lunch, and he got up to leave. Embarrassed, I picked up my own bag and left the greenhouse.

For whatever reason, I decided that I would pick up some food from the Great Hall and eat outside instead of lunching with Ron and Harry. They did not object. I wanted to be alone with my own thoughts. I headed out to the Black Lake to eat.

I put my bag down on the kelly green grass, and started to sit down, but felt a hand on my shoulder. It was a large hand, probably belonging to a male. I turned to see who it was, and I dropped my food.

It was Draco Malfoy. I couldn't tell exactly what he was feeling, but he had a look of – desperation? – on his angelic face. He didn't say anything.

"Listen, I-" I began, but I didn't get to finish what I was saying, because he interrupted me with a kiss. It wasn't an invading, tongue thrashing kiss – it was just lips. It was the smallest and sweetest and biggest thing I'd ever received in my life. His hand went to the back of my head, bringing me closer. I was so stunned. I finally came to my senses and did the same. I couldn't feel the eyes of our fellow students on us; I was so lost in the moment.

That was when I came to my realization. We were meant to be.

_Fin_


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